puzzling evidence

Here and now.

Kooks will gather for some full moon campout action. A bike ride from here to there, some dirt and some pave, some beers and some whiskeys will make for a Good Time. As usual, invitations are sent and there are lots of nibbles but few bites. That one guy showed, while the rest of you remained under your rocks. (I hope there was some really great balls games on which you wagered and lost large sums.) This type of shit happens every day month.

My preference for trail rides in the moonlight is keeping the lights off. It’s so much nicer a feel, rallying along in the velvety dark with the 1940s black&white monster movie vibe, than barreling along with 2014lumens worth of technahlogy throwing jumpy shadows every place. Plus, no one knows you are there, which is very relevant. I freely acknowledge this is not for everyone and that’s as it should be. But it is my preference. I try to be accommodating. There are, even on back-of-the-handedly-familiar trails, sections which require the use of lights and these are treated as such. Obviously. I hold out the olive branch of necessary use, even as I brandish the switch of intense “peer” pressure to keep it dark.
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I said that to say this: so and so knew what he was getting into before he crashed his bike into the ground. That will happen in the best of circumstances, and to the finest of riders, much less to a couple of drunks giggling along beneath a silvery moon. A little crash never hurt anyone (except those few times) and it is a small price to pay for such valuable experience. You got to roll with the punches to get to what’s Real. And when you do get there, well- if you’ve packed your sleeping bag you can stay a little longer.
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As for us, we had some beers at the the start point (which shall remain shrouded in Mystery). Then we rolled up the hill on our bikes, laden with party supplies and sundry. There were several convenient places to stop and take in the view, breathe in the pine scented air, pop a top, crack a flask and breathe out the fumy lies. Read that sentence again at least 2 times while picturing fun bike rides you have known. We took full advantage. Upon reaching the end point (which shall remain shrouded in Mystery), we sampled a nice rye whiskey, repeated things we have said before, took off our shoes (PRO) and “went to sleep”.
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You like bike rides.

 

 

Sleep out in the dirt some place, and not only can you stay out on your ride longer but you can get up and ride some more the next day! Bonus for repeating this scene for extra days? Fun.

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